


Private Lessons

by AngelPair



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Sex, Caning, Corporal Punishment, Discipline, He Loves It, M/M, Mentioned parental abuse, PWP, Spanking, Tutoring, arthur is a kinky brat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-15
Updated: 2016-09-15
Packaged: 2018-08-15 05:06:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8043655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelPair/pseuds/AngelPair
Summary: Antonio had never wanted to use the cane on his student, but Arthur had wanted it from the start. Pushing every button he can find, Arthur finally gets to where he wants to be – over Antonio's desk. Tutor/Student, Spain/England (human AU).





	Private Lessons

**Author's Note:**

> There is a small mention of FrUK sex having taken place in the past, just to warn those who are very sensitive about their nOTPs.
> 
> Antonio – 28; Arthur – 18.
> 
> This fic is pure sin I'm sorry

Arthur sat at the his desk, tired, but straight backed and smirking nonetheless. The room was impressive – chandelier, fire place, decorative skirting, a pair of mahogany desks and a grand piano – but it was nothing Arthur was unused to. Currently, Arthur was waiting, poised elegantly at the smaller of the two desks as the clock slowly counted down the last few minutes til five.

Arthur, an only child, was expected to be nothing but the perfect example of a Kirkland heir. His entire family was composed of rich, important, well-established businesspeople, and Arthur was being unwillingly dragged behind them. At eighteen, close to moving forward and taking up an employed position, his education had become more intense than ever. Two hours of piano a day were enough to drive him insane, let alone the entire weekends dedicated to lessons in business. And as good as he was at English, foreign languages were absolutely _not_ his forte. Yet, he was expected to know a plethora, and currently, they took up the majority of his learning hours.

With Japanese, Russian and German out of the way, Arthur's current focuses were French and Spanish. He arrived home from school at 4.45 pm only to head straight to his lessons room to await the arrival of his Spanish tutor, Antonio Fernandez Carriedo.

Antonio was, apparently, the best Spanish tutor money could buy. Arthur was doubtful. More likely, he was the only volunteer his parents could find who was suitably wealthy to spend time in the presence of their son. And he was definitely an odd one. Twenty-eight years old, sunny, cheery, laid-back and unprofessional. No doubt the heir of his own family, being forced into a tutoring arrangement with the hopes of a future partnership. Arthur didn't really care about all that. On most days in the past, he had just wanted to get his Spanish lesson over with so that he could begin piano. And then French. And then etiquette. And then tennis. And then homework. And then, finally, bed.

However, more recently, he had begun to view his Spanish lessons a little differently.

The door clicked, and Antonio entered. Arthur gave a loud huff, but today, it was an act. He was determined that finally, after three weeks of building up to it, he was going to make his tutor snap out of the sunny attitude and give Arthur what he had been waiting so patiently for.

Arthur, honestly, had no problem with Antonio. His laid back nature had been very beneficial to the Brit - a welcomed break from the incredibly strict teachers and rigorous lessons he was used to. Spanish was almost an hour of rest compared to the rest of his day. Antonio had toughened up a little when he noticed that Arthur wasn't learning very much at all, putting his tutor position at risk, but all this had done was spark a certain...desire...in Arthur, leading to an even worse attitude towards learning.

What Arthur really wanted came in a set of three. Three expensive lengths of wooden stalk, hanging on the wall behind the desk, for any tutor to snatch up should Arthur displease them. Three canes of three different sizes, which the daily sight of struck everything but fear into Arthur. He licked his lips and stilled the excited tremble ran through him, turning his attention back to his tutor.

Still, at this point, Antonio had not been much a threat. All of his other tutors and teachers – even the poncy M. Bonnefoy – could be downright terrifying should Arthur's performance slip. Threatened by his father, no doubt. Arthur was willing to take the cane, but he did not like being yelled at or intimidated. So, for most teachers, he did his work, and he did it to the best of his abilities. However, as part of his little mission, Arthur had not completed a single item of homework issued by Antonio over the past few weeks.

Arthur, of course, had left his homework incomplete again. When his gaze met Antonio's, he smirked. The tutor only smiled back stupidly. But Antonio was not stupid, and he was not always smiley, as Arthur had gradually realised over the months.

“Good evening Arthur, did you complete your exercises today? You know you're on your last warning,”

Arthur snorted. “Good evening, sir. No, I did not,” the look he pointed at his teacher was a challenging one, and for a just a moment, Arthur saw the older man's expression darken in a way that made him curious every time. Antonio's smile was now fake, and Arthur was confident that today he would unlock the hidden side of the Spaniard's personality.

“And why didn't you do it, Arthur? I told you you were on your last warning. You know my wages are at risk if your Spanish doesn't begin to improve,”

Arthur almost laughed at that. Yes, his wages. How would his bursting bank account ever recover from the extra few grand a week. Antonio's only care was pleasing Arthur's father to please his own father. It was pathetic, especially at Antonio's age, but Arthur couldn't be certain he wouldn't be in the same position ten years down the line, so he decided to play along.

“Unfortunately, your wages are not of particular importance to me. I have much better things to be doing with my time than learning _Spanish_ ,” Arthur sniffed in the snobbiest manner he could muster, spitting out the last word for further effect. Anything to rile Antonio up just a little but more.

In response, the Spaniard just sighed, massaging his temples. Arthur could almost hear his thought process - an internal debate over whether to take extreme action, or give the Brit one last chance. The struggle was clear as Antonio's face twitched, and Arthur turned his attentive stare into an unimpressed sneer as his tutor looked back down at him. Antonio was not as good an actor as Arthur, and the teen could tell that the man's exasperated expression was masking a high level of irritation.

“Arthur, I'm sorry but I'm going to have to take action,” Antonio eventually relented, “I'm sure you know what that means,”

_Fucking finally,_ Arthur thought, struggling to keep a satisfied smirk off his face.

“I'll be reporting this to your father. He can take you aside when he gets home tonight and hopefully tomorrow you will be more ready to learn,”

Arthur's expression fell immediately and his stomach dropped. Previous excitement was quickly replaced with nauseating panic. That was _not_ the way he had expected Antonio to respond. His father dealing with him was nothing more than humiliating and painful – progressively more so with each punishment, and to the extent that Arthur could hardly physically or mentally handle it. It was always a miserable and terrifying experience, and something Arthur avoided at all costs.

Antonio dealing with him, on the other hand, was exciting. Antonio dealing with him was arousing. Antonio dealing with him was what he wanted, what he had been working towards for weeks. Focusing back in on his goal, Arthur pushed away the panic. He had to think quickly and clearly, lest he end up over his father's desk instead of his tutor's.

Arthur's panicked expression had been completely misunderstood by Antonio, who thought he had finally gotten through to the boy.

“I'm sorry, Arthur,” Arthur could tell that Antonio genuinely was empathetic, “But you've left me no choice,” he shrugged as if helpless, pulling out his mobile. Arthur snapped completely into action mode. No way was his father being called. Absolutely not. Arthur was getting what he wanted tonight – from Antonio, and not his father. Mustering all the acting ability he possessed, he wiped the horror off his face and replaced it with a mocking smirk.

“My father will be most displeased with you should he have to carry out such a simple task himself,” he sniffed, satisfied with himself as Antonio's expression twitched.

“I don't think he will mind. Whatever it takes for his son to be successful, sí?” However, a hint of uncertainty had led Antonio to pause in the middle of dialling.

“He certainly will mind if he has to do your job for you. He's a busy man. He doesn't have the time to be dealing with such inconveniences,”

Arthur could see that Antonio was putting two and two together. He understood that Arthur was trying to manipulate his way out of a punishment with his father, but he also knew that Arthur was right. Inconveniencing Mr. Kirkland because he didn't want to do part of his job would _not_ have good results. But, if Arthur had read him right, Antonio had _some_ pride at least, and would not completely deviate from the plan of punishing Arthur.

“You're right. In that case, we won't bother him,” Arthur smirked triumphantly, and Antonio waited a moment before continuing, “I'll have to carry out the punishment myself,” he was obviously expecting Arthur's expression to fall again, because he frowned when saw Arthur was still smirking.

“Do you think I'm not being serious?” Antonio was becoming irritated again, which only pleased Arthur more. He was _finally_ starting to unlock a personality a bit more flavourful within the man.

“It is hard to take you seriously, I'm afraid, what with all your spacing out and dumb smiles,” Arthur was delighted to see that despite Antonio's reasonably calm expression, his body was tensed.

“Well then, how about you come up to the front of the room, and at the end of the lesson we can re-evaluate how seriously you take me,” Antonio was smiling again, but Arthur had definitely managed to knock some personality switch within the older man. Good.

Just to rile him up a little further, Arthur stayed in his seat, raising an eyebrow sceptically. “You really think I'm going to waltz up _there_ willingly?” Arthur indicated to where the three canes hung. Antonio was not happy with the response.

“Up here _. Now,_ ” there was no false cheeriness in the command this time, spoken in almost a growl. Arthur's eyes widened in genuine surprise, though when he looked to the tutor, he was wearing the same falsely cheery smile. Knowingly or not, Antonio was finally playing Arthur's game.

“Fine,” the Brit snipped, rising gracefully from his chair and striding over to Antonio's desk at the front of the room. Arthur was not ready to give complete obedience to the tutor just yet. Compliance maybe, but obedience had to be earned. He snorted at the tutor, who was staring at the three canes, clearly lost. “Since you've clearly never wielded a cane before, please take the larger. It will be easier to control and I don't want you taking the skin off my back,” It would also cause much deeper damage and leave painful marks for many days. It was a very generous suggestion from Arthur, who didn't want Antonio to make too much of an idiot of himself using an implement he couldn't control.

The tutor blushed in embarrassment, swiping the thickest of the three canes and testing it out on the air. Experienced or not, Arthur found it an arousing show to watch.

“Do you think you can count to ten in Spanish yet? It's been two months after all,” Antonio had decided to turn to Arthur's inadequacies now, and it was Arthur's turn to look embarrassed.

“Uh...” Arthur ran the number in his mind but could only get to five confidently. “No,” he eventually grumbled.

“I'll give you them once before we begin, then. Pay attention: Uno, dos, tres, cuatro, cinco, seis, siete, ocho, nueve, diez,” Antonio spoke slowly and Arthur did his best to absorb everything, “Count each stroke and don't mess up, or we'll start again,”

Antonio may have never _held_ a cane before, but he had clearly been at the bad end one of, Arthur noted. As he had expected, the stern attitude was oddly suited to the Spaniard. What was unexpected was the realisation that embarrassment was the quickest way to knock Antonio's personality switch. Arthur scolded himself for the time he had wasted trying to make the tutor angry when the solution had been something else entirely. To put it to the test, Arthur spoke up again.

“Is that what your father tells you before he strikes you? It sounds out of place from your mouth, but you must have got it from somewh- oomph,” Arthur's body jolted as it was forced over the desk, and coming back from his momentary dizziness, Arthur found his trousers being yanked down to his ankles. Hit a sore spot then. Arthur grinned. He remained lying placidly over the desk, the delicious vulnerability of the position alone beginning to warm his cock. He crossed his arms, using them as a pillow to support his head against the hard wooden surface, but the cane tapped the table in front of him. Arthur looked up. Antonio was mad. Must have been a _really_ sore spot.

“Reach out, grab the desk. Let go and I'll double the strokes,” the desk was tall and Arthur's feet only just reached the ground, but it was not too wide and he easily reached across. Following the order was another thrill, worth the loss of comfort.

“Don't forget your numbers,” the words were the only warning he got before the first stroke came down. The hit was far from professional, but not quite clumsy. Arthur's entire body tensed, his cry catching in his throat and coming out a shocked gasp. It was always like this at the beginning of a caning. The first few strokes were hell – the punishment that most people experienced from start to finish. But it didn't last – not for Arthur. He always warmed up to it quickly. It was like jumping into the cold ocean day and waiting for your body to adjust. He didn't know if it was a growing arousal or the increasing adrenaline, but after a few strokes, the pain became a type of pleasure – one he couldn't get enough of.

“Uno,”he remembered, almost too late.

At the second stroke, Arthur let out a meek cry, his eyes welling with tears. It made him feel pathetic and embarrassed, and so he only grew more aroused. He had been right about Antonio – behind the sweet smiles and gentle nature there was passion and spice. The hit had been _hard -_ if Antonio was wielding a thinner cane and Arthur didn't have his boxers for protection, he'd have been cut, no doubt. His other teachers were never like this - they never quite gave Arthur what he wanted. Bonnefoy would happily engage in sex, but refused to strike him or treat him roughly, doing no worse than shouting when Arthur misbehaved. His piano instructor, Mr Edelstein, was quick to reach for the cane, but carried out nothing more than a plain, cold punishment. A few quick strikes before Arthur had to sit down and continue with the lesson. And his father – Arthur didn't want to ruin the moment by thinking about it. But all of _this_ was already something else – the something he had been longing for for years.

“Dos,”

The third hit came, just as hard, or maybe harder. Arthur dared to peek behind himself after groaning out a breathless “tres,” and as a delightful surprise, Antonio's expression was as harsh as earlier, when he had been ordered to stretch across the desk. Arthur had expected sympathy to soften the tutor, as hurting others didn't seem to be in the man's nature. But having begun, the Spaniard seemed content to continue sternly with the punishment, and only raised an eyebrow at Arthur, who meekly turned his head back around the face the wall.

The fourth stroke came immediately after, and it sent the first _real_ , pleasured jolt through Arthur. It felt almost as though his cock had jumped into action, and he licked his lips. The pain was delicious, but still a struggle to cope with. He wasn't quite at _that_ level yet. “Cuatro,” he had almost forgotten again, and the number was spat out in haste.

“Cinco,” was the last number he knew confidently, and the stroke, cutting through two previous welts, hurt much more intensely than the last few. Another stroke fell, again layered over a previous one, and Arthur let out a strange sound that lay somewhere between a hiss and a groan. “Seis,” the number came to him easier than he expected it to and he held his breath, waiting to see if Antonio scolded him for any mistake. No reaction. Instead, the seventh stroke.

“S...sieto...” Arthur was particularly unsure on this one, and risked a glance behind himself. Antonio looked unimpressed.

“I'll give it you. Face the front,” the order seemed fuzzy to Arthur, but he knew to be relieved, and did as he was told. He was beginning to really feel the pleasure now. The pain was less intense, his erection was almost fully grown, and his rude attitude began to melt away into an unquestionable obedience for whoever had him in such a vulnerable position. He had reached the point of ekstasis and was no longer himself.

Physically, Arthur's body was doing fine, and sexually, he was as excited as could be. Emotionally, however, he was in a bit of turmoil. He was desperate not to disappoint the person dominant over him, but he knew he was about to regardless. The eight stroke led to an overflow of Arthur's welling tears, however, it was not pain that caused this push.

“I d-don't know it. I don't know the number. I'm s-sorry,” he panted. The change in his attitude caused a break in Antonio's confident severity, Arthur noticed as he tentatively peeked behind himself. His eyes were pointed back at the wall before Antonio could see him, but his cheek was gently grasped anyway and his head was tilted to face an Antonio who wore an expression somewhere between apologetic and stern. He was studying Arthur's face carefully, probably mistaking the flushing and panting for a pained exertion.

“It's ocho **,** Arthur. Ocho, nueve, diez,” Antonio sighed as if disappointed, and Arthur flinched. His cock, however, did not grow softer, and his boxers were still gradually dampening.

“We'll start again. I'll be fast and light up to eight, alright?”

“Y-yes sir,” Arthur chewed his lip, determined to use the second chance to please his tutor and make up for the mistake. Antonio stuck to his word and showed the promised mercy - not that Arthur would have particularly minded if the strokes were harder. The cane came down rapid but light, and Arthur had to count quickly. “Uno, dos, tres, cuatro, cinco, seis, siete,” - this time, the number came out correctly – and finally “ocho”, which he had committed to memory just previously.

The ninth strike had it's time at last – though really, it was the seventeenth. Arthur was panting madly at this point, riving on the desk, knuckles white where he gripped the wooden lip across from him, and drooling slightly. The lighter strokes had allowed him to focus on his arousal and the excruciating ninth stroke had almost made him scream in pleasure, though he managed to hold it in. “Nueve,” it was not much more than a whisper, but Antonio still heard, and continued for the last stroke.

As a rule, the last stroke was usually the hardest, and Antonio was not about make an exception. The stroke was loud, hard and fast, and Arthur wouldn't be surprised if he found out it had torn his boxers. He couldn't help the scream this time, and he wanted to throw his head back in his pleasure. Not wanting to give too much away, he instead pressed his face so hard into the desk that his cheekbone hurt.

“Arthur?”

“Diez,”

“Good boy. You did well,”

The Brit was allowed a private moment to recover, Antonio feigning business with some papers. Arthur stood, still panting and gasping, his face sticky with tears – of both pleasure and pain – most of which he never realised he had shed. He didn't appear it, but he was delighted – excited and aroused, but not yet satisfied. The desk was high enough that even standing, it still hid his erection, and Arthur didn't know how to take things further. All the way was _where_ he wanted to take things, but his muddled mind couldn't put together a way to get there.

He startled when he felt an arm loop around his waist, too distracted to have noticed Antonio return to behind him. “Wh-what...” Antonio's other hand was at the waistband of his boxers, and Arthur threw a hand behind himself to keep them up. It was gently pushed away.

“Shh. I need to see what damage has been done,” and the material was pulled away. Arthur chose to grip the desk in front of him for support. His bare arse, striped with red welts, was now completely on show to his Spanish tutor...that, and likely a little more. It was humiliating, and therefore delicious. He bit his lip to stop himself from moaning as a finger trailed down his burning right ass cheek.

For a long moment, there was no sound from Antonio. The teen didn't try to move from his exposed position. Eventually, the tutor spoke:

“Arthur, when is your next lesson?”

“S-six...”

“When are your parents home?”

“Eight,”

“So it's just us for the next forty minutes?”

“Y-yes...” Arthur liked where this seemed to be going, but he didn't want to let himself get too hopeful yet. He might still have to put some effort him if he wanted a shag, but if Antonio really was initiating something, it would definitely be appreciated. “Why?” he asked tentatively.

There was a moment of near silence, Arthur's heavy breathing the only sound to be heard.

“You're rock hard. So am I. I thought we could help each other,”

Arthur almost couldn't believe what he had heard – there was no way his luck was suddenly so good. He looked behind himself wide eyed, and Antonio, with two palms outstretched, took a step back.

“Hey, not if you don't want to. I'm not like that. I can leave if you'd like,” he had misunderstood Arthur again, mistaking his bewilderment for fear. Chastised, caned and bared for their tutor - what normal person wouldn't be scared? It was the natural assumption for Antonio to make, but Arthur, far from a normal person, twisted around and nearly fell into the Spaniard's chest.

“N-no, please. Stay. I need...I want...” sentences forming in Arthur's head were refusing to leave his lips, but being practically on top of him in clear want, Antonio seemed to understand.

“Good, I'm glad,” regret morphed to relief, and then to a suave grin as Antonio rounded Arthur back to the desk, “I can take care of you then,”

Arthur hissed in pleasant pain as he was lifted slightly and dropped onto the wood, still warm from his previous body heat. Antonio stood before him, and he wrapped his legs around the tutor's waist, moaning delightedly when his shoulder was harshly bitten. His shirt was pulled off – Arthur almost too distracted to notice - and Antonio soon followed with his own. Arthur was faced with an unexpected sight.

He moaned again, captivated by what was before him. He hadn't expected Antonio to be even more beautiful under his clothes than over them, but he was, and a wonderfully tanned chest of well toned muscles had been lying in wait under that shirt. Well, Francis could certainly eat shit. The Spaniard laughed as Arthur appreciatively ran his hands down his torso, revelling in the feel of every muscular curve. He jolted out of the trance when a warm hand took a gentle grasp of his aching cock – the appendage almost forgotten by Arthur himself up until that point. But with it brought back to his attention, it couldn't be ignored, and Arthur reminded himself of a wild animal as he began to thrust desperately into the fist, using his arms to push himself off the table and delighting in the jolt of pain that came every time his abused bottom came down to hit the table. Antonio laughed again.

“Calm, calm, or I'll have to tie you down,” he took his hand away, but Arthur's devastation at the loss did not last long. He had soon been flipped around onto his stomach - the same position he had been in when he was taking the cane. This time, he had his arms spread at his sides, clawing weakly at the desk's varnish as he gasped and groaned.

Something was soon poking at his hole, but it wasn't a finger, nor was it a cock. It was thin and hard and – oh. Arthur's eyes widened in realisation. This was all just _too_ good. The cane that had been striking him earlier was now entering him slowly and Arthur wriggled and whined under its influence. It was so degrading, and so debauch, that despite it providing almost no stimulation, he found himself in ecstasy.

“Oh...ah...more, more...” the pleads were muttered between gasps as the cane was twisted and thrust within him, before all too soon being yanked out and tossed away. Arthur whimpered as he watched it clatter to the floor.

“You love all this, hm. Little slut,” the words were not spoken harshly, but in amusement. They went straight to Arthur's cock anyway, and the teen moaned. “You'll have lube and condoms somewhere in this house, I'll bet. Where I can I find them?”

“I-In my pockets...” it was almost an embarrassing admission, but Arthur was too far gone to care, especially when the harsh sting of Antonio's hand fell upon his bottom.

“Disgraceful,” Antonio laughed, but dipped down to the Arthur's ankles anyway, where is trousers were pooled. He gave a harsh bite to Arthur's caned cheek as he went, causing the Brit to cry out. Retrieving the items, Antonio stripped his own clothing to his ankles and applied the condom with haste, carefully observed by Arthur. It was clear the Spaniard couldn't wait much longer.

The lube was only a sample-sized sachet, but it was enough. A decent sized stripe was squeezed out onto two of Antonio's fingers before they forced their way in to the waiting hole.

“Ahhhh...yessss...” Arthur's whole body reacted to the intrusion, throwing itself backwards, squirming and contorting, flushed and sweaty all over.

“Have I been driving you too far? I guess this is what they mean when they describe a woman as a bitch in heat...” Antonio was thrusting his fingers roughly in an out, rimming the muscles, scissoring, and ensuring the boy was well stretched. Finally finding the prostate – the discovery evident by Arthur's scream – Antonio pulled his fingers out, easing something much bigger into the hole.

“Oh Gooood....sssirrrr,” Arthur hissed as his muscles stretched to fit the new intrusion. Surely, after all his body had gone through already, he couldn't last much longer.

“Can I move?”

“Please, yes! Please, please, plea – AHH,” Arthur found himself thrust roughly into the table as Antonio slammed his whole self against the slender body beneath him. The desk was scraping back towards the wall an inch at a time and Arthur was screaming, the pleasure overwhelming him. He didn't have it in him to do anything but lie there selfishly and let the older man do the work.

“Oh my Goood, I'm gonna come, I'm gonna- AHH,” Arthur screamed again, his back arching against Antonio's chest as he released all over the desk's surface. He flopped immediately back down into his own mess, completely spent as Antonio continued to pound away. It was definitely the absolute best sex he had ever experienced. He adjusted his legs, spreading himself out to allow Antonio better access, content to be used as his body drowsily brought itself down from its pleasure high.

Eventually, Antonio too came, pressing himself closely into Arthur's back and squeezing the Brit's hips tightly as he did so.

“Good...good boy,” Antonio panted, laying across Arthur's back as he too recovered from the exertion. He slipped out only a moment later, quickly rejuvenated, unlike Arthur, who shakily pushed himself off the desk, fixed his clothes, and wobbled to his seat.

“So, how was that?” Antonio was his usual cheery self again, but Arthur, flopped over his own desk, was too exhausted to be startled by the change.

“It was good. Very good,” he sighed, wiping the sweat off his brow.

“I'm glad. I thought so too. I'll be leaving you now. I expect that homework done tomorrow, though. You'd better be behaving from now on if you ever want a lesson like this again. I'll consider canings rewards and not punishments from now on, hm?”

Arthur nodded, mind still fuzzy. If an arrangement like that developed, it would suit him nicely. Every so often, a fun, lewd lesson like this, and the rest of the time he would actually learn and behave. Yes, that would work out quite nicely. He sighed, almost dreamily.

“Goodbye...sir...” Arthur breathed out as Antonio gathered his things and headed to the doorway.

“Um...maybe I'll go a little easier on you next time too. Try to recover before your next tutor arrives. See you tomorrow!” and the door slammed shut behind him.

Arthur whined quietly to himself, barely noticing that he was now alone. His next tutor. How was he going to concentrate on a piano lesson now? And how the hell was he going to explain the hickey on his ass if he ended up in trouble for his distractedness. And only twenty minutes to go. Arthur sighed deeply as he dragged himself up from his seat. Might as well freshen up a little, and hopefully return looking a bit less ravished. He left the room the same way Antonio had, pace slowed considerably by a new, lurching limp. And oh God, he had tennis tonight too. Worth it, though – all of it, worth it.

 


End file.
